


Dave Can't Play The Fucking Triangles

by felinedetached



Category: Homestuck
Genre: As in the instrument, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lil Hal is not in this fic, Musical Instruments, Past Child Abuse, triangles, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 09:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10806075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinedetached/pseuds/felinedetached
Summary: "holy shit so my friend and i were thinking of mildly entertaining headcanons todayand i brought up one thats like. dave can play nearly every instrument BUT the triangle, like,"Dave! How the hell can you not even follow the beat??""shut tf up i know what im doing"and i was about to say "it's just clanging metal on metal" and then i r ea l i zed"AKA my friend said this and I was Inspired.





	1. Rose Lalonde

Dave, from what you can tell, has the innate ability to play any instrument. It may have something to do with his aspect, but as of right now, all you know is that his sense of rhythm is perfect. His melody twists in and around your own to create a perfect symphony. All of this is why right now, as you and Dave play with Jade and John, you are confused. Confused as to why he’s off-beat, the discordant clanging of the triangle ringing and forcing your whole song off. You’ve discovered the one instrument Dave Strider can’t play, and you want to know why it’s the  _ triangle _ of all things. You lower your bow as Dave stops, and your violin falls as he drops the instrument in his hands, scrambling through some bullshit excuse and flashstepping away. A terrible abscond, all things considered. Your bow falling on top of the violin already laying on the floor, you follow your (obviously distraught) brother out of the room, ignoring the “Rose!” from behind you. What could possibly be so hard about playing the triangle? Could it be trauma related? You’re scared to know the answer. You cheat, just a little, and use your Sight to show where he went. It is quite easy to follow your brother, even if he was quite far ahead. However, you slow when you reach what appears to be your destination. It’s where the Alpha kids tend to hang out when they’re not around your group of friends. By that, you mean the Beta kids and the trolls. You notice that Dave has paused outside of Dirk’s workshop (created after much effort taken in convincing the Mayor). You think you see his hands shaking as he reaches for the door handle. The door slips shut; silently, well oiled. Of course it does, it’s Dirk that you’re talking about. You sneak over to the closed-off workshop, listening at the keyhole in that cliche way you always see used in shitty fanfiction and bad stories.

“Eavesdropping is wrong, Rose,” you hear. It’s Dave’s voice, the one in your head. You are only mildly surprised. You ignore it. You’re used to his voice in your head when you make morally ambiguous choices that involve Dave. However, now is not the time to mull over your odd (sub-conscious) choice in voices for your conscience. You have Striders to listen to.

 

“They don’t know, Dirk. I can’t just tell them!” Dave says, and it’s emotive in a way you have never heard (especially not coming from him, of all people). You frown. What is it he can’t tell you?

“You can’t tell me that Rose, at least, doesn’t know. Or at least suspect,” Dirk replies, “and it’s bothering you, Dave. Honestly, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.” Silence falls beyond the door and you hold your breath. You’re not sure you want to know what this mysterious ‘it’ is.

“She suspects,” Dave mumbles, so quiet you can barely hear him through the door. Dirk’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it when he says the nine words that seem to confirm all your fears.

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” he asks, and his voice is so full of self-loathing you cringe. Your heart goes out to both of your brothers. Then Dirk starts speaking again, and you think your heart is literally about to jump out of your chest. “You can’t even play the triangle without shaking. God, Dave, I’m -”

“Don’t,” Dave cuts in, voice sharp as a knife (or one of those shitty swords he and Dirk seem to love so much). “Don’t blame yourself. _Bro_ _is not you_.” There’s an edge to his voice, you can’t deny that, but you also can’t avoid the hint of hysterics you can hear underlying his words. You almost want to cry. You suspected this even before the game started, but you didn’t do _anything_ about it and Dave has obviously suffered for it. 

“You’re better than Bro,” Dave says, “you always have been -” and your younger brother doesn’t get far before there is a soft ‘oof’. It is accompanied by the sound of someone (or multiple people) hitting the floor. You presume it was a nepquius-esque tackle-hug. You find that thought inordinately pleasing, likely because it is a sign that your brothers are bonding. It still is not obvious as to why, or how, the triangle ties into this conversation, but there is still that niggling thought in the back of your head, and it tells you that you  _ do _ know why. Of course, for Plot Convenience™ that question will be answered soon enough.

“It’s the metal, isn’t it,” Dirk asks, hesitant, almost.

“Yeah,” Dave replies, “It reminds me of…” He trails off, and you remember the tales you were told long ago. Stories of midnight strifes, supposedly ‘practice’ to keep Dave aware, in shape, always ready to fight. The sound of metal on metal must have echoed through his apartment constantly. That sound  _ oh so similar _ to the music created when playing the Triangle.

 

You think you need to go talk to Roxy. Maybe Strider bonding time isn’t the only kind needed on this meteor.


	2. Dirk Strider

When your workshop door opens, you instantly spin in your chair to face it. You were expecting Roxy, or maybe Jake, but it’s Dave standing in your doorway. He’s obviously distressed, the minute changes in his facial expression clueing you into his emotional state. He steps forwards, the door slipping shut behind him, and you sit up a little straighter.

 

“What happened?” you ask, concealing your worry behind shades and a mask of cool calmness. You’re fine, and you need to stay strong to help Dave with whatever’s bothering him.

 

“I can’t play the triangle,” he says, and for a second you’re confused. But then that conversation from months ago pops once again into the forefront of your mind. You remember him telling you about your alternate self and the fuckery that happened in his timeline, and your heart breaks for this brother you have who had been treated so badly by a version of yourself. You want to help him.

 

“Try telling them? It might help-” You’re cut off, mild panic infusing Dave’s voice as he tells you he _can’t_ , oh so vehement about it. You want to cry, and you want to help him, so you drop your mask, shades sliding off your face to be tucked into the front of your shirt.

 

“They don’t know, Dirk,” Dave says, his voice so goddamn broken, “I can’t tell them about this.”

 

“You can’t tell me Rose doesn’t at least suspect,” you reply, and in retrospect that is probably not the best thing to say. You see Dave flinch, and okay yeah that was definitely not the right thing to say. You’re on a roll though now, there’s no stopping you. Maybe talking to someone else will help, anyway. God knows you’re terrible at this. “And it’s bothering you, Dave. Honestly, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.”

 

He doesn’t reply for the longest time, and you’re worried that you fucked up - of course you did, look at what _you_ did to him, god you’re a shitty brother.

 

“She suspects,” he says, and it’s so quiet you can barely hear it. You’re not even sure he moved his mouth. The shades vanish as his head tilts down, and he stares at the ground silently for a few seconds. God, you’re an ass. Just look at what you _did to him_ . He’s like this because of _you_ , and now look at you - getting all self-deprecating and making yourself seem like a victim. Making yourself seem pitiable.

 

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” You can’t believe yourself, god. Why are you like this. You’re a fucking terrible brother. “You can’t even play the triangle without shaking. God, Dave, I’m -”

 

“Don’t,” Dave cuts you off, his voice sharper than the shitty katanas you both love so much. He continues, his voice less sharp now, more commanding. “Don’t blame yourself. _Bro_ _is not you_.”

You open your mouth, ready to tell him he’s wrong, because his Bro _is you_ , a splinter of you, and long ago you resolved that you would take responsibility for the shit your splinters caused. He never lets you get a word in.

“You’re better than Bro,” he continues, “you always have been -” and that’s it. God, those words out of your brother’s mouth is something you never expected to hear, and that’s all it takes. Your mask is shattered, pieces of that Strider calm laying on the floor beside where you now lie, mostly on top of Dave. You start crying, and you’re pretty sure he is too, else your shoulder wouldn’t be getting slightly damp.

 

You back off, after a bit, let Dave sit up next to you.

 

“It’s the metal, isn’t it,” you ask, already knowing the answer. The clash of metal on metal, ringing out, constantly, unexpectedly, Dave always caught in the centre. The parries he learnt and the wounds he suffered, especially when he swung back. God, how much does playing the triangle feel like, sound like, those fucking traumatic years from long ago?

 

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quiet. You want to hug him again. “It reminds me of…” Fuck it. You hug him again, because god, you think you both deserve it. His arms come up around your back and he buries his face in your neck. You aren’t worthy of trust like this, but if he wants to trust you, you’ll let him.

  
“Come on, bro. Let’s go someplace a little more comfy, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write another paragraph that just featured Dave slapping Dirk but... nah.
> 
> It's the weekend and I don't want to work on homework, so I'm just going to write! And hopefully get this whole fic done so it'll get out of my head and I can focus on actual work, instead of this hellish gremlin-child born between a comment from my friend and my own random ideas.
> 
> Go yell at me on tumblr @felinedetached


	3. Roxy Lalonde

Lines of code run across your screen, the light illuminating your face. A pesterchum window is open next to it, your conversation obscuring the code there.

TA: ii dont under2tand why youre 2o confu2ed.

Your door flies open and you start, spinning. Uncontrollably. God damnit. 

“Jesus fucking christ, Rosey, don’t you know how to knock?” 

TA: iit2 ea2y.

“Rosey? You okay?” you’re concerned - she looks like she’s been crying. She enters the room, shutting the door behind her and comes to sit on the couch next to you.

TA: TG?  
TG: sorry lux gotta sprint!  
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA]!

“Rox,” Rose says, her voice is thick with tears, “They’re so _broken_.” You know who she’s talking about instantly and pull her into a hug.

”What happened?” You ask, worried. God, your brothers have some fucked-up pasts and you hope this isn't as bad.

"Dave can't play the triangles," Rose tells you, and you almost laugh.

"Is that all? That isn't too bad, right?" You reply, cheerful. 

"It really is," Rose looks apologetic, and you're worried now. "He can't play them because they sound too much like..." she trails off, and you frown. What? Wait, didn't Dirk say something about training once…

"Oh," you say quietly.

"Yeah," Rose replies, "I asked him to play? And he agreed, of course he did, and he just. Couldn't do it. Never got the rhythm right, cringed every hit. I couldn't _help_ , Rox."

"Strider's don't let you," you reply, knowing this from experience. "And it sucks. You've just got to make them let you help, Rosey."

Rose sniffs - you hadn't noticed she was actually _crying_ , jfc - and looks up at you from where she slid down to rest against your chest.

"Yeah, i guess," she mumbles, "I just don't know how."

"Well, then you came to the right gal!" You reply, as cheerfully as you can muster.

"I've only ever really dealt with Dirk before, but this would probably work for most people: I normally either pester him until he starts talking just to shut me up or actually drag him into a room with me, sit down, and _make_ him talk."

”Does that ever really work?” Rose asks, and you smile sadly.

”Only when he wants it to.” You reply, stroking her hair. She sniffs again, and sits up more.

”Thanks, Roxy.” Rose mumbles, “You’re the best sister a person could ask for.”

”Awww, Rosey,” you smile, “you’re the best sister anyone could ever ask for too!”

It doesn’t take long for Rose to fall asleep on the couch. Shifting, you grab your laptop and open pesterchum again.

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]!  
TG: dirky  
TG: diiiirrrkkkyyy  
TG: dirk bb talk 2 me  
TG: rose todl me all about dave n the triangles n you n i know youll feel repsonsible  
TG: *told *responsible  
TG: n buster you r NOT to feel responsible about this  
TG: its not ur fault!!  
TT: Yeah, I know. Dave ripped into me before.  
TG: how is he btw?  
TT: Asleep, now. But Rox, he tells me it wasn’t my fault, _you_ tell me it wasn’t my fault, but it was _my_ splinter that did this to him.  
TG: see knew ud do this  
TG: sorry buster no self pitying allowed  
TG: its not ur fault  
TG: end of story  
TG: ur good okay  
TG: best bro good friend  
TG: ur way better than the ass dave says was his  
TG: bro  
TG: ugh that doesnt feel right  
TT: Roxy...  
TT: I really did fuck him up, though. My splinters are me, and I resolved to take responsibility of the things they do a long time ago.  
TG: it is not ur fault  
TG: n i will keep telling u this  
TG: i will tell u until u beilve it  
TG: *believe  
TT: God, fine.  
TT: ...  
TT: We should probably take Rose and Dave to their rooms.  
TG: theyre fine  
TT: Dave’s lying on top of me, on the floor.  
TG: yeah okay  
TG: dont worry ill come rescue you  
TG: ur rogue in void blue armour  
TG: wonk  



	4. Dave Strider

They give you a triangle. It makes you want to cry.

At first, you joke about not being able to play the triangles. Jade rebuffs that, pointing out that all you need to do is clang the stick into the instrument in time to the beat. What she doesn’t know is that _that’s the problem_.

You’ll do it for them, and you do.

You play.

You don’t last long.

Every clash makes you flinch. You can’t get on beat, you just _can’t_ , you tried so hard for them, but you _can’t_. You can’t do this. You have a past entrenched in steel and blades, and this is just another reminder of it.

Everything is a reminder of it, if you’re honest. This, though, this? It’s too much.

You’re barely aware of dropping your instrument to the floor, more so of the clash of it hitting the ground. That echoes behind you as you flee. You’re not sure where you’re heading, just that you need to get _away_.

You find yourself in front of the door to Dirk’s workshop. Why _here_ of all places? Why did you come to the one person who looks _so much_ like Bro?

God. He’s not Bro, even though he may look just like him. You push open the door, hesitantly stepping inside. Dirk is sitting at his desk, facing you. He looks concerned, worried for you, and it instantly cements in your mind that _he isn’t Bro_.

“What happened?” You hear dimly. There’s a rushing in your ears.

“I can’t play the triangles,” you manage, practically forcing the words out. You hope you don’t have to say anything else, you hope he understands what you mean with those five words. Comprehension dawns on his face, and you let out the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. And then he opens his mouth.

“Try telling them? It might help-” 

_No no no no no_ , doesn’t he realise you can’t do that? They don’t know, they don’t know what Bro did and you _can’t_ tell them, you just _can’t_.

You tell him as much.

He looks so sympathetic, and you’d hate it if not for the fact that it sets him apart from Bro. You don’t need sympathy, you don’t want it either.

“You can’t tell me Rose doesn’t at least suspect,” he says, and _god_ he’s right, but he doesn’t need to beat himself up over what he says. It’s written over his face, in his now unshaded eyes, and it almost makes you forget what you came here for in the first place.

Almost.

“It’s bothering you, Dave,” he continues, “Honestly, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.”

God.

_God._

‘I’m there for you’, this says, ‘I’ll always be here, if you need.’ He sees your troubles, troubles that he believes _he_ caused, and instead of ignoring it, instead of deciding that they aren’t his problem, he offers to help.

He’s so different from Bro.

He deserves an an answer.

“She suspects,” you say, and _god_ your voice is quiet.

Wow, the ground is really interesting right now.

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” He says, his voice almost as quiet as yours. He blames himself, blames himself for something that someone who is so fucking obviously so fucking different from who he is did to you. For what Bro did to you. “You can’t even play the triangle without shaking. God, Dave, I’m -”

“Don’t,” you say, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re telling him not to do. Don’t apologise? “Don’t blame yourself. _Bro is not you._ ” He opens his mouth and you can just _tell_ he’s about to refute your claim. He’s about to tell you that he is Bro, that Bro is just a version of him, and that as such he should take responsibility.

You don’t believe that, no matter how much he wants you to.

“You’re better than Bro,” you tell him, and every word out of your mouth is the pure, honest truth. “You always have been-” And here you’re cut off with a violent movement that leaves you winded. You’re not entirely sure what happened, or how, but Dirk is now lying mostly on top of you, cry-laughing into your ear.

It’s a while before he sits up off you, but you don’t mind. That hug was so uncool, so unstriderish, and it cements the difference between Dirk and Bro into your mind.

He’d never hug you. Dirk just did.

That automatically makes Dirk better.

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence. Dirk breaks it, and surprisingly, you’re really not that bothered by it.

“It’s the metal, isn’t it?” He says, and while he says it like a question you know it’s more a statement. Answering isn’t as hard as you thought it would be, especially with his words echoing in your mind.

_”You don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.”_

“Yeah,” Your voice is quieter than you thought it’d be, what with the stroke of confidence you got. “It reminds me of…”

_”You don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.”_

You still can’t say it. He doesn’t seem to mind, and you tackle him in a hug. It’s inspired by both payback and the fact that you just _really_ feel like you need a hug right now. You rest your head on his chest, comforted by the beat of his heart under your ear.

You’re both alive. You’re both here.

Bro isn’t.

“Come on, bro. Let’s go someplace a little more comfy, huh?” His voice is distant, and you don’t really bother listening to what he says.

It’s comfy here, with his heartbeat a booming reminder that you’re alive, he’s alive, and you don’t have to deal with anything by yourself anymore.

Emotionally wrung out, you fall asleep where you are.

You don’t even stir at Roxy’s arrival.

Despite the bad - perhaps even because of it - today was good.

You’re content - peaceful - for the first time you can remember, Dirk’s voice still a comforting reminder hanging in your ears.

_”You don’t have to deal with it by yourself anymore.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished!
> 
> There should be a one-shot coming soon, so keep an eye out :3
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr [@felinedetached](https://felinedetached.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Update schedule will be a bit crazy, given everything else I'm working on, as well as fucking school work. I've got a seven week project and a presentation to work on, on top of normal school work, with the addition of an exchange student coming to stay that I have to look after. I apologize if I don't update for literal months - I promise I will not abandon this.


End file.
